


I do what I want, when I'm wanting to

by RiverOfFandoms



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Flirting, Reader is a Saviors Member (Walking Dead), Short & Sweet, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:34:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27551626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiverOfFandoms/pseuds/RiverOfFandoms
Summary: Reader and Negan are on the road until they stop somewhere for the night.
Relationships: Negan (Walking Dead) & You, Negan (Walking Dead)/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	I do what I want, when I'm wanting to

**Author's Note:**

> honestly, don't really know what this is but I couldn't help myself. And the dialogue wouldn't leave my brain.

It had been a long day, dragging your feet through the mud and dirt, peering over your shoulder to make sure none of the corpses were following too closely. You were exhausted. Your muscles ached from overuse. And you were sure you smelled bad, especially after the disaster that was dragging Negan out of a deep trench.

The thing was obviously man-made, probably some kind of trap for a poor, wandering stranger, since there were a few live corpses stuck inside. Or perhaps those were the few strangers that fell in. It was hidden by bush, and you probably would’ve fallen in yourself if Negan hadn’t been the one in front.

He was quick to put down two corpses. There were three in total. Negan stabbed the two through the head, with the knife he had on him, and you managed to shoot one down with your bow, in the nick of time too, as it almost had Negan within its grip.

He looked up at you then, remembering your existence, his eyes bigger than you’d seen for a while. Breathing ragged. His eyebrows lifted and he said, “Thanks, kid.”

You slung your bow back over your shoulder, “Don’t mention it.”

Negan bent down to pull out the arrow. He kept the corpse pressed underneath his black boot as he yanked the arrow out with a grunt. He held it up to you and you took it, ignoring the sudden curiosity in his hazel eyes. Under all the sarcasm, vulgar language, dirt, sweat and blood, Negan was actually a handsome guy. Maybe you only really noticed it then, as you lay flat on your stomach, hanging your arms over the edge of the pit, your hands wrapped around his; clad in leather. You didn’t spend much time with the guy. Hell, he was the leader of the Saviors, so of course, you didn’t. So maybe that was why you only really noticed it then, in that moment.

It took a lot of strength out of you to drag him from the pit. Since it was so deep, and he was so tall and heavy. But after a lot of swearing (mainly on his part), scraping up the side of the dirt wall and inhaling dust, he was finally free.

When he scrambled up the edge of the trench successfully, you celebrated by turning onto your back and sighing into the air above, closing your eyes. It seemed Negan had decided to do the same thing as you heard his leather jacket squeak against the dirt, felt his elbow touch your arm and heard him exhale just like you had, except out through his nose.

You had laid there like that until the sound of the dead urged you forward.

Now, you both were holed up inside a small shack, with only a few corpses that had to be put down and dragged out of the house. It was quiet, now that it was dark out, and the dull light from the lantern you’d found washed the room in a warm yellow. You had some food in your pack for times like these, so you offered some to Negan who took it gratefully. He wasn’t much of a talker, which was a surprise, since whenever you saw him at Sanctuary, talking was all he ever did. All white-teethed smiles and charming words. But now, he looked tired and conflicted, and whatever thoughts were bubbling up inside his intricate, complex brain, he kept to himself.

You tossed your scraps to the side. You were sitting on the rug over the hard floor while Negan sat up above you in one of the crappy-looking sofa chairs, riddled with holes. You swallowed and stretched out your legs which were clad in faded denim. You were staring at the dirt patches all over them, from helping Negan, and then you said, “Can I ask you something?”

There was silence at first. You wondered if you weren’t really supposed to speak so casually to him, even if in front of no one else. You were going to apologize or add on “sir” when he finally answered, “Sure.”

You looked up at him, your confidence getting the better of you, “Am I attractive?”

Negan didn’t look the least bit taken aback or surprised by your question. His hazel eyes travelled your body from head-to-toe, taking in the way your hair was kept, the dirt smudged on your cheeks, your soft lips, the long, jagged scar near your collarbone, the somewhat tight denim, and then, “Yeah, hon, you’re attractive.”

You were honestly surprised, “Really?”

“Yup.”

You frowned at this; your mouth twisted as you thought. “Then why is it that no one will sleep with me?”

There was a cough as Negan choked on the mouthful of water he had unfortunately decided to swallow as you spoke to him. He coughed until his airway was clear and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, eyeing you with those dark eyes of his. He shook his head but didn’t say anything else.

“I mean,” you continued, as if nothing had happened, “there’s still all these social rules and niceties about it. Sometimes even dates! I’ve seen it,” you urged, trying to plead your case to him. “If I find a nice guy to look at, couldn’t I just go up to him and ask him if wants to do it? It’s the end of the world, for goodness sake.”

Negan was still staring at you with intrigue and amusement, “You wanna ask guys to have sex with you.”

“Yeah,” you replied confidently, “I want _that_. And that to be the norm. Why bother flirting or impressing each other? That’s just wasting time. We could all be dead any day now, and I mean for _real_ , not like that _life is short_ bullshit in the before because now it really is short.”

There was a moment between you. Negan’s eyebrows were raised slightly at the fact you had mentioned, which he knew to be quite true. Everyone knew it. Even if you were living inside safe walls these days, it didn’t mean the risk was that much less than before when out on the road. You still had to live dangerously, take risks, fight for your survival. You thought maybe he had enough of your blabbering as the silence dragged on, but then he said, “Now, can I ask you a question?”

You were surprised but you hid it well, and repeated his answer, “Sure.”

“Would you, with _me_?” he raised an eyebrow, a small curl to the corners of his lips suggested that yes, that was _exactly_ what he meant.

Your eyes widened as you realized what he had said, and a light blush crept up onto your face, which Negan thought was extraordinarily cute. “I…” you trailed off, suddenly unable to even comprehend an answer.

He laughed, _actually_ laughed, which you weren’t sure you’d really seen before, not genuine like this. He shook his head and shifted positions in his seat, the dirt in his hair and facial hair more evident that before, “Well, c’mon now! Practice what you preach!” He leaned over a little, keeping eye contact, and his leather jacket squeaked with the movement, “What was that whole speech just now about asking people you _find nice to look at_ to sleep with you, huh?”

“But…” you were dumbfounded, “you’re Negan.”

He blinked, his stare becoming pointed, his voice dropped all humor but there wasn’t anything intimidating or menacing about his eyes or the way he looked at you. “You’re right,” he started, his voice low, “I’m Negan. And I’m asking.”

You stared at the man who sat across from you. He sure looked like the guy who was in charge, but he was acting so unlike the Negan you’d known.

“You’re really thinkin’ hard about this one, huh?” he asked, a slow grin grew on his face.

“Well,” you started hotly, “there’s all the politics to consider…”

He tilted his head back slightly, blinking, “Politics?”

“You know,” you started, as if the answer were plain as day, “you’re Negan.”

“We’re all Negan,” he remarked.

“You know what I mean… you’re the guy who runs the show. So naturally, there’s politics.”

“Like?”

“Like… what would people think?” you answered, easily.

“Who cares what they think,” he scoffed.

You thought a moment. “What about your wives? That’s a lot of baggage.”

“I can sleep with whoever I want to.”

The next point came easy but was harder to say, “There’s… pressure—”

“Pressure?” he arched an eyebrow and leaned forward in his chair, resting his chin on his hand. He looked quite entertained by all of this, though you weren’t really noticing that since you were so caught up on convincing him why you couldn’t just say yes or no to him.

“To perform…” you continued.

“ _Oh_ ,” he said as he caught on, “you don’t have to worry about that, sweetheart.”

“Uh, yes I do—”

He silenced you with a look, his hazel eyes alight. “Not with me.”

You sat there, defeated. You had no more points to make for your case and it seemed Negan had successfully rebutted all previous statements. You sighed, relaxing the tension from your shoulders. “Fine. Yeah, I would.”

Negan’s curious eyes and shit-eating grin were replaced by a smirk, obviously pleased with himself and your answer.

You spoke again, maybe to ease the tension, maybe to distract yourself from the way he was looking at you. You were nervous and it was _weird._ “I won’t lie, it’s not like I haven’t thought about it with you before.”

“ _Oh_?”

You felt your cheeks flush pink as the heat spread across your skin and you looked away from him, suddenly embarrassed for saying what you said. “Yeah,” you tried to be dismissive about it, uncaring, “I’m sure everyone has.”

He nodded slowly, unable to take his eyes off you, despite your best efforts at keeping your eyes off him. “So,” he started abrupt, “now that you have my support of asking whoever you want, who have you got in mind?”

You were startled out of your thoughts by his sudden question and you peered up at him cautiously, hoping no other personal information would willingly just slip out of your mouth again. You blinked. “I don’t know…” you tilted your head, your eyes focused on a discarded wrapper lying on the hard floor. You caught his hazel eyes again as you came up with an answer, “I was thinking maybe Tyler?”

“Tyler? Really?” Negan questioned, obvious annoyance in the way he frowned at the mention of the Savior’s name.

“He’s got the hair…” you tried, yet again determined on convincing him to agree with you.

“ _Tyler_ is an idiot,” he answered, plain and simple.

“He’s okay…” you argued, “I mean, yeah, okay, he _is_ an idiot.” You ignored the amused look in Negan’s eyes. “But it’s not like we’re going to have to talk much… you know…”

“Honey, have you ever even _had_ sex before?” the older man asked, his dark eyebrows raised in question. He was infinitely amused by this conversation with a girl he hardly knew, and he just couldn’t help but tease you.

“Of course, I have!”

“ _Well_ ,” he said rubbing his chin mindlessly with his hand as he thought how to continue. Something sparked in his eyes and they suddenly pierced yours. “If you want it to be _good_ ,” he lingered on this word a moment too long, and with his stare, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of excitement. He licked his lips. “There’s gotta be talkin’ involved.”

You stared up at him, your heart racing in your chest. You swallowed the dryness from your mouth and refused the images that came up in your head with Negan’s hand on your thigh or mouth on your neck. You held your breath.

He got up from his chair, “Just saying,” he admitted carelessly, and left to go curl up in a corner somewhere to sleep the rest of the night away, knowing _exactly_ what the effect of his words had done to you.


End file.
